Darkling (31 page)

I lay down. It was hard to calm the beehive of thoughts in my brain, but dreams eventually came.

And there I was in a dark space with that unknown breathing entity again! But this time, his breathing seemed to be filled with anxiety. And my annoyance was mixed with frustration. C’mon, it had been almost a week with this limbo-dream thing! All I wanted was one night without dreams, or at least just dreams of some stupid butterflies or fairies—even if they were annoyingly girly! But this definitely had to stop.

I’d heard somewhere that five minutes in dreamtime were equal to a full hour while awake. However, this darkness and emptiness seemed to me like a friggin’ eternity. I had no idea why this dream was repeating itself, and the worst thing was that it didn’t even feel like dream. I was fully aware of each passing minute. If I were able to do something in this dream, with this level of awareness, I could live two human lives. Unfortunately, this dream was totally useless.

Chapter 20

A French Rome

“Good morning,” Doris said, entering my room.

“I have a bunch of questions for you!”

“Can’t they wait until after breakfast?”

“No, they cannot!” I insisted, and she shrugged, sitting on my bed. She picked up my phone off the bedside table.

“I see you brought it with you.” Doris was looking at the screenshot on my cell phone of the painting that Belun had given me.

“Pity to leave it alone in my bedroom,” I muttered, smiling.

“So shoot, I’m hungry.”

“What does Balthazar do?”

“Ah, I can tell you all about it on the way.”

What’s with vampires and their meals? My expression was clearly frustrated, and apparently it won her over.

“Okay,” she groaned and rolled her eyes. “Balthazar . . . hmm. Let’s just say that he controls information flow.”

“Meaning?”

“Whenever someone needs something, they talk to Balthazar.”

“A quid pro quo?” I asked.

“That sounds primitive when it comes to Balthazar. He’s got a vast network of people who work for him.”

“Is he some kind of loan shark?”

“Jeez, Nika. He’s not a butcher! He’s a business man.”

I didn’t see much difference between the two.

“So, do you need information? Is that why we’re staying here?” I said.

“Oh, no. I love Balthazar, he’s an old friend. No other reason.”

If he was some sort of Pentagon, then Theodore was someone who needed something. And I had a strong feeling it had to do with my team leader. Now I understood Balthazar’s interest in me. He was able to pull information in all possible ways, and he’d probably be a great mentor to an Inquirer.

“Anything else? I’m hungry.” She shifted impatiently.

“Who’s Theodore?”

The question surprised her. Apparently, he hadn’t mentioned our little encounter last night.

“How do you know about him?”

“Last night, I ran into him on my way to your room.”

“Oh…” She let a little laugh. “He’s a Vasilis.”

What?! “As in…?”

“Yup, he’s Simona’s brother.”

I was shocked. I definitely hadn’t expected that.

“Small world, huh?”

“Damn village more likely!” I snorted. “What’s he doing here?”

“Visiting Balthazar.”

Oh, really!

“Girl, we have to work on our communication.”

Theodore joined us at the table for breakfast. Little Sophie sat between him and Doris, and it seemed that he was her favorite person too.

“Did you sleep well, girls?” Balthazar asked.

“As if I was home.” Doris smiled broadly, and I nodded with a polite smile.

“You might have not seen our other guest yesterday. Doris, I believe you already know Theo.”

“Good morning,” Theo said to me, and I returned the greeting.

I surprised myself by the amount of food I ate. Jeez. Only a few months ago that would have been my daily dosage. But now with all the training I had had, my body was asking for more. I’d get fat on this vacation if I didn’t at least go for a run.

“How long are you staying in Nîmes?” I asked Theodore.

“A few more days.”

“Wanna come on a city tour with us?” Doris asked.

“Gladly, but I have some things to do. Maybe we could meet later?”

“Of course,” she said contentedly.

What was he here for, and what were those errands he had to run? I remembered that the girls said Vuk wasn’t bound to a household—was it the same for this guy? In the case that he was a Priest, of course. Also, Vuk was gathering information about the gifted people, so what did Theodore do? And why the interest in Belun? Was he a friend or foe?

I started thinking about Arna’s words about Belun’s pain and why he had had to leave. My hand instantly found its way to the metal figurine in my pocket.

That morning, I noticed that all the vamps had something in common. They were taking small bites, which led me to think about vampire bites and marks on necks. I wondered who Balthazar’s blood supplier was and how fresh the blood had to be in order to keep its nutritional value. I had never thought of it before.

Later in my room, I texted Blake:

Nika: hey, you finished your paper yet? Know anything about Theodore Vasilis?

Blake: still workin’ on it. Only that he’s of noble family and some say he’s a nomad

Nika: a nomad?

Blake: he changes places a lot, which is strange for a vamp. If you find out anything share

Nika: pas de probleme mon amie

It was unusual for a vamp who was not a Warrior to change places a lot. Unless it was court duty. But to be labeled as a nomad among vamps, that had to bear some meaning. Could he be a Warrior? He seemed rather skinny for that, so I rejected the idea. Oddly, I felt that the more I knew about Theo, the closer I would get to solving the Belun puzzle. So I decided to follow my instinct.

There was a knock at my door.

“You ready?” Doris asked.

“Let’s go,” I said, getting my coat and phone.

“So, let the introduction to French Rome begin!” She was pretty excited.

“Have you been here before?” I asked as we walked toward downtown.

Doris shook her head. “They moved here four years ago. Before that they lived in Paris, where Balthazar’s offices were.”

“Offices?”

“Yeah, he lived among humans as an attorney for a while. His main office, for the special clients, was located in the 1st arrondissement of Paris. There you have the Louvre, Palais-Royal, and many other important places.” My clear interest indicated that she should continue—and apparently she had understood the comment I had made about our communication, because did she continue. The good thing about vampires was that you didn’t have to repeat things twice.

“That part used to be the royal center of Paris. There are the prettiest parks, best museums, famous boutiques, and bars. The 1st arrondissement is situated on the right bank of the River Seine and the west end of the Île de la Cité.  But enough about Paris, we have our own tour here to make!” Doris fished the Nîmes tour guide from her bag.

“Clara gave me this.” She showed me the book. “There’re a lot of interesting things to see.”

“Cool.”

“First, we’ll check out the biggest thing: the Arena,” she said, with excitement.

I had expected to see some ruins, and was very surprised to find it complete!

“Wow!”

“It says the Romans built it in the first century A.D. and that the Nîmes Arena is the best preserved amphitheater of the Roman era,” Doris read from the book.

The façade consisted of two levels of sixty superposed arches, separated by a cornice. Walking the corridors and entering the terraces, I could almost smell the dust under the gladiators feet.

“Apparently Nîmes has a strong bullfight scene,” she said.

“I don’t like that sport, or whatever it is that they call it.”

“Why? It’s another culture’s tradition.”

“It’s a lame excuse to torture animals,” I stated.

Sneaking through the corridors was fun, and we were the only visitors. There was a gladiator museum too, but with fewer weapons than I had expected.

“I like this place,” I said. “I wonder how a vampire who lived in that time sees it now.”

“Balthazar would know.”

“He looks more like he was a pirate,” I said, with a chuckle.

“He’s not a bad guy, but it would be interesting to see him with an eye-patch and a pirate scarf,” she laughed. The image was unforgettable.

“If I needed information from him, what would I have to give in return?” I asked.

“I don’t know, you should ask him. Why, you need something?”

“Maybe I do.” I smiled slyly, but one pact with a devil was enough for this lifetime—meaning Baldur and my business contract.

“Well, don’t worry, he doesn’t trade in souls.” She nudged me in my ribs, as if knowing what I was thinking.

“Not that you know of, anyway.”

“You okay with us staying there?”

“Yeah, it’s nice. I like them. It’s interesting.”

“I thought it would be. I wanted you to see how some of us live.”

“It was a good call, hon,” I returned the nudge. “Any opponent of Baldur is worth knowing.”

“I see you caught that at the table.”

“Hey, I’m the Inquirer. I was trained to notice the tiniest things.”

“I don’t recall them giving out diplomas.”

“Smartass.” I stuck my tongue out at her. “Does Baldur have any enemies or only opponents?” I added.

“I assume you’re asking about those among our race. Well, I’m not so sure about open enemies but there’re some people who don’t share his views, I guess. My father, Balthazar, and Belun, to name a few.”

“And why’s there a problem between Warriors and Baldur?” It was a question that had been bothering me for a while.

“Politics,” was her whole answer. Ugh. Maybe she didn’t know why. I remembered that Belun’s answer had been equally vague.

“What about hostility? Or is that too extreme for your
world
,” I asked. I wanted answers!

“Well, there was the Middle Age incident, when the Vocati were created. I guess no one is completely immune to hostility. Unfortunately.”

“Who’s your ancestor?”

“A monkey?” she laughed. “Just joking. It’s Udama,” she said proudly.

So Doris was the offspring of the second oldest vampire. That had to count for something.

“What about Belun and Theodore?”

“The Vasilis’ are from Kyrill, and Belun is from Baldur.”

“Baldur?!?” I couldn’t believe it! Belun came from Baldur??
Now
I understood his insisting that Belun take a place on the Council.

So my dear team leader was the offspring of the very vampire I didn’t like. Okay, “didn’t like” was an understatement.

“I assume your connections with your ancestors are strong,” I said, but Doris shook her head.

“There’s no connection. Not one that calls for mandatory obedience—or any obedience for that matter. We’re an advanced democratic society,” she said. “But not in the framework of liberal capitalism,” she added teasingly.

“But isn’t there any connection?”

“Well, that depends on the relationship between the two people, I guess.” Doris shrugged.

“And what about Set? Who’s his ancestor?”

“Apius? Hmm, that’s a little complicated,” she said, uncomfortably.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it. I understand,” I said, making a huge mental note to investigate the matter.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem.” I was more than satisfied with the lesson she had given me regarding offspring. It was something I hadn’t been able to find in the books that Matthews had given me.

So, Set was of the mysterious sixth family. If Doris was of Udama, Belun of Baldur, the blond witch was of Kyrill, and the two families of Sango had been slaughtered—then from whom was Set? As a vampire woman, Ixtab couldn’t have produced offspring. And Doris’s answer, “it’s a little complicated,” was only making things worse. I so wanted to know! I doubted that any vamp would tell me about it. Except Set himself, perhaps. And I wouldn’t see him for three weeks. This issue wasn’t something you could tackle over the phone. As French would say: quelle merde.

Set’s metaphor with a rose bud and death came to my mind. Why would he compare himself to something like that? I wondered if there was more to it than just being a pick-up line for the girls.

“This building here is Maison Carrée.” Doris crossed toward the small temple, situated behind the Arena. “It’s one of the best-preserved of all the Roman temples. It was built in 16 B.C. and was dedicated to the adopted heirs of Imperator Augustus. Of course, anything in the name of pushing the cult of character. Napoleon took this design as a model for La Madeleine church in Paris, dedicated to the glory of his own army. Right! In front of the temple was the Roman Forum.”

I looked in the direction of the site, but it wasn’t easy to imagine. The temple was nice with all of those pillars surrounding it. Inside, we watched a film about the history of Nîmes. I liked seeing 3D models of how it used to look under the Romans, and it was nothing like I had imagined.

Outside, the sun had already set, making a glass building nearby look stunning. When I had seen it before I hadn’t liked all that new material set among the ruins, but seeing it now with the light falling on all the right places, it was amazing.

“That’s Carrée d’Art, the Museum of Modern Art. Architectural design by Norman Foster.” Since I didn’t have any comment, she continued, “He’s a British architect. He constructed the Millennium Bridge, a pedestrian bridge in London that you can see in every movie that has anything to do with London. As well as that bullet-lollipop building.”

“I see you’ve been there.”

“I lived in London before coming to Tromsø. Well, more between Paris and London. And I loved it!”

“Lucky you. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Next time, we will,” she giggled and shoved me lightly. Then she returned to the book guide.

“Nîmes was on the main road from Italy to Spain. Here stood Porte d’Augusto, Augusto’s gate. The dude apparently built the whole city.” We were looking at something that resembled a wall with two big arched entrances, and two other smaller ones. Nothing special.